


Darkest Side of Me

by flyingfishflops



Category: Antisepticeye - Fandom, jacksepticeye
Genre: A bit of gore, AU: Dark, Angst, Anti Headcannons, Body Horror, Dark, Eyes, Gen, Heavy - Freeform, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, and Darks, anti please stop., anti story, backstories, horror?, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2018-12-02 03:38:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11500998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingfishflops/pseuds/flyingfishflops
Summary: In a world where 40% of people have personal demons known as "Darks", Seán never imagined he was one of those people.Now, waking aching, in an unfamiliar place, to a familiar voice, he knows he is.it only gets worse from there.





	1. Introductions and Awakenings

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Animal I have become" by Three Days Grace
> 
> I'm so exited to finaly post this.  
> in the spirit of recent happenings in the fandom, i managed to get my butt in gear and write something.
> 
> this will be a wild ride, and does start quite fast, so buckle up!

 

_ Footsteps. Strange noises. A pain behind the eyes. confusion. Fear.  _

 

_ Then slowly, slowly, reach for the knife. _

 

_ A thud. _

 

\-----------------------------------------------

 

_ Have you ever wondered what it’s like to have no control? Not over the world, not over your own body, over nothing. A mere spectator. Watching, unable to comment? But free, free from responsibilities? No? _

_ Well, no matter. I’m sure you’re about to find out, Seán. anyway, it won’t be for too long.  _

 

_ Maybe it won't be like anything at all for you. A headache. A nose bleed you can't explain. Sound familiar?  _

 

...

 

_ Let's take this outside shall we? _

\-------------------------------------------------

Static whined, buzzing like a swarm of wasps. In the midst of the white noise, a voice was talking softly.

“Jack.” it was calling. “Jack” it sang. Slowly, Jack opened his eyes, wincing as dim light hit his aching eyeballs. His eyeballs weren't the only thing that ached, too. His neck stung, his head throbbed and there was something tight around his wrists.  A blurred figure stood before him, . “Top of the mornin’ to ya laddie” it cooed, voice distorting and soft and oddly familiar.  _ Too _ familiar. “My name-” and here the voice paused “-is Antisepticeye.” The static, which had faded to a soft background noise, suddenly erupted angrily.

 

Jack's head throbbed more painfully, like someone had just taken a pickaxe to his skull. Squinting, he tried to focus on the shape in front of him. 

“Anti...septiceye?” he repeated uncertainly. His eyes finally managed to focus on the source of the voice. “Holy shit!” Jack swore, jerking back and hitting his head on a pole he was sat against against. “It’s  _ You _ . you’re real!” he stared, wide eyed at his captor who wore his face. He was terrified. He’d  _ known _ Anti was real, he had. He had just hoped otherwise. He’d rather be insane than, than a  _ host _ .

 

Anti giggled, distorted and high, clearly pleased with the reaction, fanged smile not quite reaching his singular, slitted black eye. Dark gunk dribbled like treacle down his face from an empty left socket, staining his inhuman teeth.

“That’s right Seán.” he said, absentmindedly wiping drips away from his mouth. His single white pupil met Jack’s eyes. “It’s me.” He stood in front of him hands behind his back, cutting off moonlight from a small window above him and casting Jack in his shadow. He was glitching violently, movements jerking sporadically into the next, and his dark grey shirt was ripped and stained. Old crates and debris were scattered haphazardly around the place, and poles reached up into the darkness like naked pine trees at regular intervals. The musty smell of abandonment melded with a sharp metallic one. Jack couldn’t tell whether it came from him or the being in front of him.

 

Jack struggled trying to back way, only to realise the tightness on his wrists were bonds, tying him to a large pole. Anti laughed softly at his desperation, crouching down to be at eye level.

“Aw. Look at you. So helpless. So  _ weak _ .” he shook his head sadly.

“I wonder, Seán.” Anti mused, pulling out and inspecting a wicked looking knife. “I wonder if you know what I am.” 

If this had been a game or a movie Jack was spectating, he most likely would have made a joke along the lines of “A dick.” But this was no game. It was horrifically real. Mouth dry, Jack managed to reply.

“A dark. My dark?” he held his breath, hoping he was wrong, that Anti would correct him. Instead, Anti gave a sarcastic applause. 

“Yes, you’re correct. Well done. Next question.” he continued. “This one is a little bit harder” his tone was patronising, as if talking to a five year old. “What types of Darks are there? And-” he held up a finger to accent the point. “Which am I?”

 

Jack hurriedly thought back to his  _ S.P.E.E.D  _  lessons from school. 

“Uh.” he began intelligently. “There’s, um, Fighters? Corruptors, Possessors, Stalkers, Frighteners, Shoulder Sitters, and Depressors. I think.” He answered. “Are you a possessor of some kind?” he offered uncertainly, dreading the response. Anti made a  _ so-so _ gesture.

“Right, and then wrong.” he said. “You got most of them. Although” he scoffed “I’m not surprised you didn’t guess my kind.” Anti shook his head, flickering slightly. “No. I am not a possessor. I am something  _ much _ rarer.” leaning in, he lowered his voice. “Something much  _ stronger. _ ” Jack pressed himself against the pole as his own face, glitching and bleeding came closer. “Something-” by now his voice was a whisper. “-much more  _ dangerous _ ”. At the terrified look on Jack’s face, Anti grinned, showing his sharp canines. “I am a plague.”

 

Jack must’ve looked blank, as Anti huffed, rolled his eye and lent back.

“A… Plague?” repeated Jack. 

“I’m not surprised. Not many people know about us, or the potential we have.” Anti said, almost dreamily, although Jack knew he wanted no part in whatever nightmare that his dream would be.

“What potential?” Jack asked tentatively.

“Plagues like me feed on attention, on top of general negativity. The more people talk about us, the stronger we get. Until we can survive on that alone. Do you see, Seán?” The Dark asked. “We can live without hosts. Throughout history, however, past plagues have failed to gain enough attention. Never infecting more than one or two people.” Anti’s near permanent grin stretched wider. “However, you have  _ quite _ the following. Thanks to them, I am  _ strong _ . Maybe strong enough.” Jack’s blood ran cold.

“You wouldn’t.”

Anti smirked.

“Wouldn’t I? How do you know?” He shrugged. “But you’re right. I won’t kill you- not just yet. After all, I have a  _ very  _ important job for you.”


	2. Eye For an Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's really knife to meet you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick warning- this chapter gets a little bit darker...
> 
> Enjoy.

  


Anti began pacing back and forth, lazily waving his knife while Jack watched anxiously, holding his breath. He didn’t know what Anti mean by that and did not really want to find out.

“Do you know anything about Dark society?” The  glitching demon asked, changing the topic suddenly. Jack shook his head slightly, unsure of the direction this was taking. “No, I didn’t think you would. There isn’t much of one- we’re not particularly social beings.” _but you sure talk enough to be one,_ a stray thought whispered. Jack had to mentally beat it down with incase Anti could somehow read his mind. He wouldn’t put it past him. “Well,” Anti continued, a slight hint of morbid humor in his tone now, “Not unless you count fighting for power as being socal. Everyone wants to be the strongest. It’s a constant squabble for power over everyone else.” he scoffed. “Idiots. Why stop at the top? I’m aiming _much_ higher.” he promised, a glint of ambition in his jet black eye. “You hold the key to the ultimate virus, the ultimate _Plague_ . I will become unstoppable. I will be able to do with the world what I want!”   


“Why?” Anti stopped pacing, and spun to face his prisoner.   
“What do you mean, ‘Why?’” under his glare, Jack felt his soul shrivel up in fear.

“I-I mean, why would you want to take over the world? Isn’t that a bit, I don't know, cliche?” he blurted before his brain could stop him. Anti stared, emotionless for a moment just long enough that Seán’s soul gave up and abandoned ship rather than face the hell that was sure to come. What he got was worse; an evil smile. It spread across his warped face and melted into giggles that were high and distorting and cold. He leant closer to Jack, until said face was the only thing filling his vision.

“You want to know why? Jack didn’t respond, not daring to even blink. The face so similar, yet so _different_ to Jack’s own was slit open by a grin like a knife. “It’s because it will be _fun_ .”   
  
He drew back, spreading his arms. “Imagine! A world of chaos and death with the only constant being _me_ ! A supreme ruler with enough power to stay physical forever! Who will never die! Just a party that never ends!” he stopped, and examined his knife, twisting it this way and that and watching it glint in the dim light. “Who knows,” he said, voice softer now. “Maybe I’ll keep you around as a pet.To watch it all and to _be_ watched for entertainment. Because you like that, don't you?” his tone was accusing and full of blame. “That’s why I’m here, _Isn’t it_? Just because you wanted your oversized ego stroked. Pathetic.” He hissed, staring at Jack with obvious disdain. The heavy weight of guilt settled in Jack’s chest. Anti was right after all, it was his fault he was in this situation. “But,” the demon continued. “That’s not why I need you, Seán. I need something from you. A weapon, in fact.” there was a pause, just enough time to unsettle Jack further. “I need an eye.”

 

“W-what?” Jack couldn’t believe his ears. “You want my _eye_ ?!” There was no way this was real, it _couldn’t_ be. “No no _No_. No fucking way. Are you fucking insane?!” he yelled, fear and desperation flooding his voice. Anti laughed, soft and dangerous.

“Of course I am.” he replied. “And you don’t get a say.” He snapped a glitching finger, and particles like the ones hovering around him like a swarm of flies around rotting meat congregated with a high pitched whine. They pressed closer and closer until they formed the shape of a man. A man with green hair, a man with a doctor's hat and coat that would not look out of place at a dress up party, a man with a stethoscope. A man with his eyes closed and with a mask covering half of his face. Half of _Jack’s_ face. Anti smiled, gesturing to the man. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Jack.” The man that was Dr Schneeplestine opened his eyes.

They were pitch black.

 

“You must be confused about some things. ‘Why do I need your eye’ for a start.” Anti noted. He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “It’s because I lost mine.” He grinned, like he’d made a fantastic joke. When Jack didn’t react to this, his grin dropped and for a moment it looked as if- yes. He was pouting. “Fine.” he huffed. “Tell be Jack, did you wonder where your dear friend came from? Let’s see, what did you name them again...? Oh, that’s right. ‘Septic eye Sam’?”

“Sam? What about them?” Jack’s brain was reeling, trying to understand all the information he was getting too fast to process. “Wait-” Anti cut him off.

“It all comes down to something your human scientists don't know much about. Pair Substances. Every Dark-slash-Host pair has a set. Not much else is known except they oppose each other, and can have-” He paused in consideration. “-interesting effects. Our pair is made of something called ‘Bossness’” The inverted commas were audible and showed exactly what Anti thought of _That_ name. “And the conveniently named ‘Anti’. Very rare substances. Through various means, one can be changed into the other. These Pair Substances are very powerful, and like I said, can change things in interesting ways. But they can only affect… biological matter. And certain parts more than others.” Anti’s smile was haunting and practically bleeding insanity as he uttered his next words: “So I cut out my eye.”   


Or maybe it was just the blood.

 

Jack felt like he was about to throw up. He wasn’t sure what was worse- the fact that this psychopath was about to cut out his goddamn eye, or that he’d cut out his own and was smiling about it.

“Oh yes. It hurt like fucking hell.” Anti recalled almost fondly. “But even if it didn’t quite work out how I wanted, I know the theory works. Anyway, I injected the eye with pure Anti and put it in a tube. I had to dissipate for five minutes- my power wasn’t the same back then, I couldn’t hold a form for long- and when I came back that bastard had broken out of his tube and escaped! Turns out they’d gone running off to you. Opposites attract and all that shit.” He frowned, anger darkening his features for a split second, before it disappeared and was replaced with his trademark smile. “So I made some changes to the plan and waited for an opportunity to take yours, and you just handed one to me on a fucking silver plate!” His grin stretched wider as he giddily praised his good luck. “Let me repay the favor- an eye for an eye after all!” pressing himself as far back as possible, Jack glanced round desperately, hoping for an escape. “Aw. look at that.” His captor giggled. “He think _I’m_  going to take his precious eye.” he shook his head gleefully. “No… That’s the Good Doctor’s job!”

 

Schneeplestine stepped forwards, syringe filled with a softly glowing green liquid in hand.   
“Now, Seán, do not be scared. This will only hurt a lot.” he promised, an odd, vaguely German accent clipping his words. “As opposed to agonising pain without this injection. Hopefuly. That is part of what the Bossness serum is _meant_ to do, i think, as well as prep the eye.” He knelt down, and even as Jack struggled and fought against his bonds in panic, slipped the needle in swiftly and professionally. Jack yelled and thrashed as the liquid entered his bloodstream. Watching from behind the doctor, Anti hummed in consideration.

“Constrain his head.” he ordered. “We don’t want any accidents in surgery do we? Not like with poor Peter, hm?” this got Jack to freeze. If he’d been in any position to notice these things, he may have wondered over how at the mention of his ex-accountant and patient, Schneeplestine bristled and his eyes flickered to the normal white and blue. But as fast as it came, it was gone, and the doctor went to fetch some rope, which was then fastened round Jack’s head.

 

“Well, there should have been enough time for the serum to get to work.” Schneeplestine announced, taking Anti’s knife. “Let’s begin, shall we? Now, stay still my friend, and this will hurt marginally less.” Jack was forced to watch, helpless, as the knife reached slowly forwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3  
> uh oh~
> 
> thanks to everyone whos reading/commenting/leaving kudos. it makes my day!
> 
> also anti jeeze stop monologuing so much its dumb.  
> stop being so cleshe villain.
> 
> I have a tumblr where I draw, write and reblog stuff, http://flyingfishflops.tumblr.com/


	3. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jack be lethal/ Jack be Slick" ~ Wolf In Sheeps clothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im gonna put some warnings in the end notes for this one so if you need to, skip down to check cause it gets heavy.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Seán, like many people, had secrets. Some big, some small. And some that were rather odd, such as the fact he had a small friend who lived in his house, a friend who liked to sit on the shelf and sleep as he recorded. A friend who’d become, without anyone ever knowing he was real, the icon of the channel. 

 

Sam was an oddity, that was for sure. An eyeball, emerald green in colour with a striking electric blue iris. He was larger than most eyeballs too, about two or three inches in diameter. As he peacefully doze on his favorite shelf, his optic nerves- which  mostly served as a tail- twitching as he slept.

 

Suddenly he froze, and his tail shot up like an antenna. Sam levitated off the shelf, turning this way and that in panic. As he looked about the room, he noticed several things, none of which good. The whiteboard had crazed scribbles covering it, and the room was dark, lit only by the moonlight and several small candles. But the thing that really worried him was the pumpkin on the table, a knife stabbed into its thick flesh, serving as a haunting reminder of the date. Blood covered it, thickest at the knife, as if the vegetable had been bleeding. Sam’s tail flicked worriedly. To the untrained eye, it would appear to be nothing but nervous twitches. However, to the very few who knew him, it would have been clear he was using his own form of sign language.

“ _ shit _ ” 

Sam snaked through the air as he hunted for an open window. _God damn them both_ he thought angrily. _God fucking damn_ _it._ His search took him into the kitchen, where he found a window that had been left slightly ajar. As he flew over, he stopped, having spotted the salt up on the counter. He weighed up the pros and cons of making up a quick bag of salt. _Fuck it._ He decided. _Idiot needs all the help he can get._ A pile of salt was carefully made up on a sheet of kitchen roll. Wrapping his tail under the paper, he managed to scrunch it up into a small, makeshift bag. Hurrying now, Sam soared into the dark night sky, bag in tow, following his instincts towards a long-abandoned warehouse. 

\------------------------------------------

Jack’s world currently consisted of nothing but pain. It was sharpest in his left eye socket, a burning fire of agony unlike anything he’d felt before. He’d remembered screams. It was logical to assume they were his, but they felt disconnected to himself. He’d screamed and screamed until his throat eventually joined the pain. He’d begged and pleaded, but now all he could do was silently weep through it all, tears mixing with blood as they rolled down his face. He was dimly aware of amazed ( _ crazed _ ) laughter in the background. Through the burning and tears, Jack managed to crack open an eye. No. Not ‘an’ eye. His remaining eye. Anti was grinning in wonder at-  _ oh god _ .

 

It was his eye. Swollen and black with a bruise-purple iris, it was a hideous representation of the pain Anti had caused. It hovered there, sweating a strange black slime, in front of his enemy, who smiled at it in wonder. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Anti reached out a hand. The Anti-Sam (for Jack couldn’t consider it a part of him anymore, and it looked so similar to Sam. In the same way that Anti was similar to Jack.) extended his tail and wrapped it around his finger. Anti laughed. A soft, genuine laugh. Jack closed his eyes tight against the sight, childishly hoping it would make it all stop.

If Jack was in any state to notice these things, he might have noticed the softness of his smile, the gentleness of his touch. Likewise, if he could see himself, he might have wondered what was happening to his veins.

\------------------

After a short flight, Sam had found it. Namely, the place Anti was at. It buzzed with his staticy presence, or at least to the eyeball it did. It was a large warehouse, surrounded by chain link fences and graffiti. Above the derelict doors, there was a circular vent, fans long stilled. He darted in between the blades, keeping to the hole ridden roof. Below him, he could see Jack tied to one of the cat walk supports, eyes screwed tight, in obvious pain. Was that blood on his face? It certainly was on his neck, which appeared to have been sliced open. And in front of him… there was the demon himself. He was admiring a black, floating ball, it seemed. A black, floating ball with a tail. And Jack… Sam recoiled at the realisation. But before he even had the time to sign something along the lines of ‘shit’, the other eyeball sensed him, let out an unholy screech and launched itself towards him. As it throttled towards him, Sam realised with a start that it’s pupil was not a pupil at all but was in fact a hole which was folding back over the front of the eyeball getting wider and wider, revealing a gaping maw filled with teeth. Two rows of razor sharp teeth, to be exact. Anti-Sam slammed into him, knocking him into the roof. The bag of salt burst, pelting Sam with what felt like thousands of tiny needles as he fell.

 

\----------------

  
  


Jack heard an odd, wet thud from in front of him, and opened his remaining eye. Sam lay on the ground, writhing in pain.  _ Salt harms Darks _ , he remembered suddenly.  _ And Sam came from a Dark…   _ With a cold look on his face, Anti dropped down onto a knee and picked the limp Sam up by the tail, and Jack found himself sharply reminded of how  _ small _ Sam really was.

“Hello Sam” The demon crooned, holding him up in front of his face. “Nice of you to  _ drop  _ by!” his face twisted into a sneer. “Little  _ traitor _ ” His voice shattered into a glitching, echoing shout and he tossed Sam across the room. Sam flew through the air, tail trailing behind like a twisted party streamer, before crashing into some crates. Unable to do anything but watch, Jack’s mind numbed in shock, while Anti turned back to the monster he’d turned Jack’s eye into. “well done.” He praised. “I see we’ll get along just great.”

“Sam…” Jack whispered to himself. He was  _ couldn’t _ process it all. Sam had come for him, had risked his life, only to be tossed away like a rag doll. Sam- the only good part of Anti that had ever existed. The image of Sam contorting in pain on a pile of salt flashed in his mind. His fists clenched behind his back, unseen by all. Anti had possessed him, manipulated his audience, kidnapped him,  _ cut out his fucking eye _ , and  _ on top _ of all that, he’d just thrown one of his greatest friends into a pile of old boxes like he was nothing but  _ garbage _ . Cold rage began to seep through his blood.

 

Jack felt pins and needles prick up on his skin, like a poison running over him. They struck quickly, turning his whole body numb. As Jack trembled with anger, the numbness began to subside, taking the pain of his injuries away with it. Scratch after bruise after cut vanished from his body, leaving only a small green haze under the skin, which too disappeared seconds later.  Across his neck, the cut from the knife his own hand had inflicted had began to bleed green, before sealing and disappearing, leaving only a faint scar and dried blood. And his empty socket…

The pins and needles changed in the back of the socket. They changed to an itch and then to a small pressure. A pressure that grew and grew. Emerald tinted blood leaked out, melding with the red and forming a dark crust on the lid. Jack hissed as it began to ache, adding more pain to his shattered nerves. eventually, as strangely as it began, the pain under his lids stopped. With a start, Jack realised that  _ all _ the pain had disappeared. In fact, he felt as if he’d had several cups of coffee injected straight into him.  _ Injected. _ He remembered suddenly.  _ What if…  _ A nagging thought began to pull at his brain. What was it Anti had said about Pair Substances? “Interesting effects” that was it. He had proof of that certainly. But what about living matter? Both Sam and Anti-Sam had been taken out before being… experimented on. What did it do to humans when in high quantities?  _ The pain is gone  _ Jack thought  _ That means it’s either a painkiller or it can heal. And it did a fucking terrible job at taking away the pain before. _ Figuring that if he was wrong, the worst that would happen was his face getting even bloodier and his hopes getting dashed, Jack slowly opened his blood crusted lids. First the right, and then, holding his breath, the left. He immediately closed them again, heart beating hard. Jack took a few deep breaths, trying to psyche himself up again, and then opened the left lids first. A shaky smile flickered on his face for a few seconds as his brain registered what his eye was seeing. No, not eye.  _ eyes. _

 

Normally, Jack would have been confused about that. Eyes don't grow back, because that’s impossible. He knew he wasn’t the smartest guy, but he knew that for sure. But _ normally _ didn’t apply to this situation at all. Normally he didn’t get kidnapped by his dark. Normally he didn’t have his eye cut out in the first place. And normally he didn’t witness his friend’s limp form tossed away like nothing. Jack watched as Anti fussed about with Anti-Sam, paying Jack no heed. Seeing his chance and feeling inexplicably rejuvenated, Jack began to strain against his bonds, strength filling him from unknown sources. The ropes bit into his wrists definitely, however, as he struggled, they began to fray. He fought harder, screwing his eyes shut and grunting slightly with effort until a satisfying  _ snap _ filled the warehouse and they fell away.

 

Jack lifted up his newly freed hand to his equally new eye, which came away sticky with green blood. 

“Holy fuck” he muttered, picking himself of the ground uneasily. But strength flowed through him now, and the unease was replaced with a burning desire. A burning desire for revenge. At the unexpected noise, his captor turned to face him. Jack took a step forwards, face down, anger radiating off him in waves.    
“Jack.” The surprise in Anti’s face was gone in seconds, replaced by another ugly grin. “I’d say it's a pleasant surprise to see you up, but it really isn’t.” He raised his knife slightly in warning as Jack took another step forwards towards him. 

“How fucking  _ dare  _ you do that to Sam.” Jack growled, fists balled. “How fucking dare you do this to  _ me _ ” He jerked his head up, looking Anti dead in the eye. His left eye’s sclera was a bright green, which was blazing with a green light, leaving flame like trails as he moved. He took another step.  Anti glanced over at Anti-Sam   
“Get him.” the monster made the same appropriation of a nod as Sam did, before flying at Jack, who stumbled backwards in alarm as it screeched, spraying him with black spittle. Then, too fast to register, a green flash collided with the black eyeball, smashing it into the floor. Shock flashed across Anti’s face as the green shape lifted flew back up, tail morphing before their eyes into something sharper. “ _ Sam _ ?!” he hissed, grip on his knife tightening as he took a startled step back. Jack took the distraction and launched himself at the demon, landing a punch on his nose, which connected with a satisfying  _ Crack _ .

 

Anti fell back, wiping the dark blood now trickling from his nose away. He smiled dangerously and his glitching form lunged, knife glinting. Jack barely jumped out the way, knife catching his arm. He hissed slightly at the pain, clutching at it and stumbling backwards. The sharp smell of copper in the air became slightly more potent. The wound was bleeding slightly from under his hand, but bleeding green. Anti raised his knife again, now tinged green, and aimed for Jack’s heart, giggling psychotically. Instinctively, Jack raised his arms in defence, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. There was a sudden green flash, and Jack felt his body tear apart. 

 

Jack opened his eyes, peering out from under his raised arm. He was standing a few feet behind Anti, who turned, flickering harder with anger. Teleportation. He could fucking teleport. 

“ _ Motherfucker _ ,” Anti hissed, slicing at Jack, who simply glitched behind Anti again, landing another hit on him. The adrenalin was pumping through him, and Jack felt  _ alive _ . He danced out of the way of Anti’s knife, and found himself almost enjoying himself. Beneath the anger and fear, there was part of him that was having fun. Jack glitched again, and this time, (or at least in his memories) the green light didn’t come. Instead a green mist settled over his vision until it all went black.

  
  


When he came too again, the first thing he noticed was the laughter. The second was the sounds of terror. The third was the weight of the knife in his hand. And the fourth was the look on Anti’s face as he plunged the knife into the his stomach. the look of agony and fear. Jack and Anti both stood frozen in shock, as they looked at the handle of the knife Jack had embedded in his enemy.

 

“H-heh…” Anti choked, a weak grin on his face. He suddenly glitched violently, and Jack yelped, jerking backwards and letting the knife fall to the ground with a thud. Anti yelled wordlessly in pain, and fell onto his hands and knees. He reached one shaky hand to the bleeding wound in his abdomen.. “H-heh…” something dark and wet splashed on the floor below his head. “I don't… I… don’t…” His form glitched and contorted stronger than Jack had ever seen. Feeling sick, Jack found himself unable to do anything but watch in horror as Anti slowly slipped into a fetal position on the floor, wrapped around his wound, and stilled completely, the constant sounds of static dying with its source. Even his constant flickerings ceased, and for a moment, Anti looked almost human, almost truly alive. Only sleeping. For an awful moment, Jack felt as if he were looking at his own corpse. Before Jack’s eyes, the Dark began to melt like sugar into the same treacle like substance that flowed from his socket. Pure Anti. 

 

He didn’t know how long he stood there, silently staring at the puddle that was once his tormenter. The adrenalin kick from the fight had dispersed, as well as the energy and strength from the serum, leaving him tired and shaky. And empty. As he stood there, feeling numb, he noticed Sam nudging his hand slightly, causing him to break his gaze and glance down. 

“ _ Hey, _ ” Sam signed. “ _ It's okay. Lets just get back for now, and we’ll deal with all this later, alright? _ ” Jack simply nodded dumbly, letting the small eyeball wrap around his finger, and glitched away.

 

Later. He’d deal with it all later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Warnings for Mutation and Stabbing in this chapter)  
> man, THIS is one of the parts i've been most exited for!  
> Never fear! this is not the end! It is only the beginning!! 
> 
> Also, sorry for missing the last two updates, i was out of town, with limited wifi. Also this chapter was the hardest to write so far... It's almost half the word count of the total fic so far!


	4. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ariving home, Jack still has some jobs to do.

  


The apartment was still, the only illumination coming from the office, where a few candles still flickered gently. A bright, green flash illuminated the bedroom for a split second as Jack appeared, Sam in tow. He collapsed, exhausted by the night. Sam hovered nervously above his head.

“ _Are you okay_ ” he asked, once he was sure Jack was looking.

“Yeah… I’m fine” Jack lied, picking himself up. Well, not _lied_ as such. The fall hadn’t hurt him. “I think I’m gonna take a shower.” A nice, cold shower was exactly what he needed, followed by some coffee and sleep.

 

Seán padded through the empty apartment towards the bathroom. Signe was off in America, having been offered a year’s internship at a design company or something. He couldn’t quite remember. She’d already been over there for a month or two now, and they’d talked over skype whenever time permitted. As proud of her as he was, Seán missed Signe. A deep longing filled his chest as he thought of her, a wish that she could give him one of her amazing hugs and tell him it would be alright. _But if she were here,_ a treacherous part of him thought, _what could have happened tonight? If you disappeared suddenly, returning covered in blood, what do you_ think _would happen? She’d pat you on the head and give you a hug? No way. She’d scream and call the police and they’d come and lock you up._ Seán sunk to the floor, head in hands.

“No…” he whispered. “No, no,no…” _or,_ his runaway thoughts continued, _what do you think Anti would have done if she were there? She’d be dead on the ground with the blood on your hands and you’d never be able to prove a thing._ Maybe it was for the best she wasn’t there.

 

20 minutes later, Seán stepped out of the shower, feeling somewhat fresher. Once he’d wrapped himself in a towel, he glanced into the mirror. The face looking back no longer felt like his own. It had a tired, haunted look about it, and felt too similar to that demon’s. It took his exhausted brain a moment to take in his new eye.

His new, green, eye.

“Oh fuck me…” he moaned. He leant on the sink, unable to look away as he felt the weight of this new problem crushing down on him. How the hell was he going to explain this? His fans had noticed Anti’s subtle glitches before he did, they’d _definitely_ notice this. _But they didn’t think those were real. Why should this be any different? The lie would be easier to swallow than the truth…_

 

Thinking of videos, he should let people know that it was over. Anti was gone, and they could all go home, wasn’t that fun? It seemed Seán would have to be Jack for a little bit longer.

 

“Boo! Did I spook ya?” Seán sat back as he watched through the video, checking for anything else he needed to edit. In the end, he’d decided to give people the ending they expected. He’d thanked everyone for joining in and Robin for his amazing editing, for really bringing it all to life. He wasn’t lying. Not really. It _had_ been fun at first, a game he’d played based on some drawings he’d seen floating around on the internet. He’d asked Robin to add the glitches to the camera and people loved it. They drew and theorised and talked and talked, and it _came to life_. He had always been there of course, lurking in nightmares, a childhood bogeyman, masquerading as a figment of his imagination. And then someone named him, and the nightmares had been a tiny bit more frequent, and then he went and pulled this stunt. He practically hand fed him, handed him a written invitation into his brain.

 

He remembered the first time he realised something was wrong. He was scrolling through his tumblr tag, when a drawing came up. It was of the demon, with a caption about how excited the artist was. Next thing he knew, he was staring at his blog filled with reblogs of pictures he’d never seen, captioned with glitchy text he’d never written. By the time he worked out Anti was real, it was too late. The glitches were real and painful, and every time he tried to cry for help, the demon stole his voice. It was far too late. The devil was already in the driver's seat, and was accelerating fast.

 

\-----

An observant viewer might notice the strained smile, the tired eyes, the flecks of blood on his neck. A logical viewer might also put them down to exhaustion from the performance and makeup not quite cleaned off. However, Jack knew that they’d all be focused on his new green eye. He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain the ‘effect’. For now, he’d just not address it. It’d work better if Robin didn’t either, just to limit confusion. He dropped the video and sent him a quick message

 

~~JackSepticeye [JS] started pestering PixlPit [PP] a~~

>  
> 
> Jack: Hey dude! Once again, great job this month!
> 
> Jack: but hey, just a heads up- if anyone asks about the eye, dont deny it wasnt your mad editing skills
> 
> Jack: but maybe dont say it was either?
> 
> Jack: Just thought it might be fun to carry on the mysteries a bit! :)
> 
>  

Almost immediately, he got a response.

 

>  
> 
> Robin: Okay??
> 
> Robin: Just seen the eye thing, how the hell did you do that
> 
> Jack: it's a secret
> 
> Robin: is that a contact or something??
> 
> Jack: *taps nose knowingly* I thought i said MYSTERY!!!!!
> 
> Robin: okay whatever dude.
> 
> Robin: Hey, why’d you wait so long to post? So unlike you!
> 
> Jack: Suspense.

He lied.

 

Closing the chat, Seán wondered why Robin wasn’t calling his bluff. Surely he realised he hadn’t edited the video? Unless Anti had somehow affected him? He wasn’t sure how the whole 'infecting' think worked. After grabbing a quick snack, with all jobs finally done, Seán climbed into bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

 

That night, he dreamed of glitches and blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow look who finaly updated :)  
> got hit with some writers block so sorry this chapter isn't the best or most exiting thing ever. still needed to be written though.


	5. Nightmares

 

November had never been so bleak. Every night, dreams plagued Seán’s sleep. Each one was different, though Anti appeared in them all, sometimes grinning and giggling, or slashing with a knife. Sometimes he’d find himself reliving the moment that his eye was removed, or he’d see Anti dying on the floor, whispering the same words over and over again, like a mantra. “Murderer. Killer. Beast.” Sleep had never come easily to Seán, but now he would wake nearly every night with ragged breath and a pounding heart full of guilt and fear. On these occasions, he’d never be able to fall asleep again, fearful that if he did he’d see that green mist or the point of a knife once more.

 

Seán found himself in that position again, waking up suddenly, the memory of the dream already slipping away from reach. Reaching over to check his phone revealed that it was only three in the morning. Quickly deciding there was little hope for sleep, and even less point in lying awake in bed for several hours, he pulled himself out of bed and wandered into the kitchin. If he was going to be awake, he figured, he may as well grab some coffee and check out the community or something. Swiftly, he began making his drink. As he began to pour it, Seán spotted movement out of the corner of his eye.

 

Panicked, he glitched against the wall, coffee splashing against the floor, before realising it was just sam.

_“You okay?”_ Sam asked. Seán smiled uneasily back, combing back his hair awkwardly.

“Yeah. yeah, I’m cool. You just, um. Y’know.” he shrugged. “Startled me.” He’d been increasingly jumpy since halloween; scared of- fuck, he didn’t know what he was scared of. That Anti would jump out from around the corner? He was being ridiculous and he knew it. But the truth was, Sam made him uneasy. It wasn’t fair- nowhere near it. Afterall, Sam hadn’t done anything, but the sight of him often reminded Seán of Sam's… creator. 

_“You’re up early”_ his friend noted. 

“ Couldn’t sleep.” Walking back over to the counter to continue making his coffee, Seán shrugged again. “Decided to get some work started instead. If i'm gonna be awake, may as well be productive right?” There was a long silence filled only by the clink of spoon against mug as he stirred his drink, watching the spiral the liquid made as he did so. He turned back, coffee now in hand only to see that the eyeball had quietly left. (He hated himself for it, and tried to ignore it, but he heard himself sigh in relief.) 

 

 

At a more reasonable time, Jack sent off the unedited footage of the day to Robin, before clicking onto various sites, poking around aimlessly, replying to comments and admiring art, before a notification popped up informing him that Robin had messaged him. He clicked into the chatroom to read what he had to say.

“Hey man. You Okay?” the message read. Frowning, Jack typed out a reply.

“Yeah, im fine. Why?”

“Idk, you just seem really tired lately. You sure youre good?” Jack stared, tense, at the monitor. Was he really being so obvious? The thought made him anxious. 

“Its nothing.” he typed carefully. “Just tired, after halloween, is all.” It wasn’t a lie, or at least not a big one. He was just leaving out a few details. He didn’t want to lie to anyone, least of all his friends, he really didn’t. But if he did? They wouldn’t believe him, about this imposible sounding Dark, but if they did, they’d start wasting time worrying about him, or they’d hate him. Call him a murderer. Tell everyone. No. Much better to be a little bit opaque and to tell a few little white lies than to have any of that. Anxiously, he watched the typing animation on screen.    
“Okay.” came the reply. The scepticism was almost palpable. “But in that case, shouldn’t you be trying to get more sleep? I saw you were online at 3AM today. Jacks’ mouth was dry.

“I couldn’t sleep. Thats literally it.”

“Idk jack. Combined with the eye thing, you’ve been acting kinda off lately.”

“I told you. It’s nothing. Seriously, the whole ‘eye thing’ is just some shit i came up with to engage the community, and i’m just tired from the show we put on for october, you’re looking too deep into something not there. There’s nothing wrong.” there was a pause, and then Robin began typing again. 

“Fine. You know what, forget it. But if there was something up, you’d tell me, right?” Jack swallowed.

“Right.” the lie flowed easily, five quick movements on a keyboard, but sat uneasily in his stomach. A ping caught his attention, a new notification from Signa. Relife flooded him, and he quickly one last message to Robin: “Look, dude, gonna seem awfully convenient, yeah, but woosh just messaged me, I gotta go.” before closing out of the chat without waiting for a reply and opening up his girlfriend’s, where he spent an almost happy hour just chatting about nothing, trying to ignore the whispers from his dreams filling his head. 

_ “Murderer. Killer. Beast." _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im sorry for the huge gap between updates, and for the length of this one, I just hit writers block :P  
> I'll try my best to get another update out much faster
> 
> check out my Tumblr: http://flyingfishflops.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> S.P.E.E.D is a nickname for Social, Personal, Economic and Dark Education. Like PSHE but with demons.
> 
> I know this may seem a little fast paced, but honestly? This isn't even the main part of the fic.  
> I'd love to explore the world of darks a bit more in this, but i don't know what opportunities there'll be.  
> if you have any questions about them, just ask, and if it's not too spoilery I'll answer!
> 
> Feel free to check out my tumblr: http://flyingfishflops.tumblr.com/
> 
> also, check out this speedart i made as a cover for it- https://youtu.be/bxiDuBa_rto  
> see ya next time!


End file.
